Over The Bridge [Story]

The dark, cold river reminded me of a deep black abyss, flowing rough and fast as I stood watching it from the broken down wooden bridge. I have stood here many times before but never have I felt the dread I felt that night. My heart thumped hard enough I could hear it, but it was not the only thing I could hear. The voice whispering to me,

"You must do it." It laughed.My hands shook as I puffed on my cigarette, my hair brushing my face in the gentle wind. It was a warm night but still a shiver ran down my spine, I looked down, deep into the water. A dancing silhouette under the dingy water called to me."Join me." It sung, it's voice welcoming and warm.The empty bottle of pills on the floor beside me was blurring a little. The starry sky above lit the landscape I was looking onto beautifully. Sadness filling my stomach along with a severe burning sensation I assumed was the tablets I had just swallowed. I closed my eyes leaning over the metal railings of the bridge. My mothers face lit up my blank mind, she smiled, her arms wide open waiting for me to hug her. But I did not move. My step father appears by her side, his smirking lips tormenting me. After years of abuse, my mother had never noticed, never believed me. "She knows the truth, she just loves me more." His voice rang in my ears, echoing eerily.I lean forward taking the leap which I had planned for days, I felt free as I fall 50ft through the air, crashing into the freezing water below me, It felt like icicles, millions at once, stabbing into my body. But I didn't mind, after all the voice had told me to do it. The voice which would calm me, loved me and wanted me to be with him, my boyfriend. His car crash had ripped my heart out, I spent months trying to find a way to contact him from beyond the grave, and finally I had succeeded. He wanted me to be with him, to live forever in the other world. He told me how beautiful it is, how the sun never sets, the people always smiling.I forced my eyes open, and searched for my love. His dark hair flowing into view, his pale hands reached for my face. He grabbed my hair pulling me deeper, further and further into the abyss. His hands not gentle as I had remember them, but filled with force. My lungs gave up as I gasped for breath, panic flooding my body, I kicked out and twisted my body in an attempt to swim back up, only to be dragged deeper under. I gasped again, but this time I could feel the freezing water splintering my lungs.

***

No longer am I alive, the sun never sets because the sun will never rise. The constant blackness which swallows me up, tortures and torments me. The people always smile, their lips are sown that way. Not that you can really call them people, they have no legs, not one of them, nor skin or hair. Their black eyes which stare into my own, bringing all my worst memories back. I spend a lot of time reliving the beatings I had received from my step father, the death of my boyfriend, and my own cowardly death. Each happen in a different way so the torture never ends. Never can I get used to this. I watch my mother from time to time, when I say watch I'm forced to possess her, I'm forced to slice her arms and legs, but killing her husband was my doing. I sliced his head of clean with a blade. I enjoyed watching the life fade from his eyes, the blood gurgle and splutter, his mouth slop open.

They've told me that one day, I will be like them. Not caring about killing. But they don't know that already, I have lured so many to that bridge, dragging them to their untimely death. My story is told, but very rarely, because all those who hear it die. I wonder who's next, how I'll do it and when. I'll let you know sometime.

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It's a simple question, with an infinite amount of answers. So lets start with the basics;

I'm Nicole A Preedy, I write, I read, I kick ass.

I write a whole load of crazy crap, but I do have my fair share of stories to tell, as a fiction writer my ideas are always coming, and never leaving. As well, of course, the inspirational quote!I write Thrillers, Romance and Horror. Though I can be quite funny!

Why do you care? Simple answer is YOU DON'T. Complex answer? You are bored, you want to read something, something that will make you laugh, cry, bite your lip in anticipation or think deep into the logic of a made up murderer.

So, you're asking, what the hell is next.

EXACTLY, Hell is next, a few stories, HORROR, stories, based on Ghosts, Demons, Monsters and even the Devil himself well, I like to call him Lucifer since were on a first name basis! As well as the lovable and heart wrenching love stories!

Keep your eyes open for the first STORY to be feasted upon by, well... YOU.…

He looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed. I can’t make it out, I could never make it out. One day he’s full of emotion, the next emotionless. Usually I read people, as if they were a book, but now, with him, I can’t tell. I can’t tell what or where I stand.My arms drop to my sides in defeat, his bright eyes, glowing in the setting sun. “What am I to you?” I ask, my voice almost as quiet as the gentle cool breeze. “You already know,” he replied, not looking up. Again, I felt nothing more or nothing less than usual. Again, my heart fluttered in a mad panic, already, as if I lost him. A crowded mind, am I too needy? Do I just want more affection. I do not answer myself, but I do know, I want him open, open to release his feelings. ***

She was staring at me again today, Again she looked confused. Her hair looked beautiful, shimmering in the setting sun, but I didn’t tell her.
“What am I to you?” She asked me, her angelic voice, like music to my ears.